For several days Carolina and I had been staying in a motel in a remote village of Mexico. We were now standing outside our motel (little more than two or three rooms) viewing the surrounding green hills covered in jungle trees. I was looking up at a hill which Carolina and I had climbed the previous day and I was astonished by what I saw. Flying above the hill was a helicopter with a long rope hanging under it. Tied to the bottom of the rope was huge rock, probably 50 meters in diameter. I immediately recognized the rock, because Carolina and I had examined it the day before. On the rock was carved an ancient  face, perhaps a thousand years old, which had been made long ago by the Indians who used to live here. It was somewhat in the style of the round Olmec heads found in southern Mexico, except that Olmec heads were typically only a meter or two in diameter, whereas this rock was gigantic.

I immediately understood what was happening: the local authorities had decided to discard the ancient relic. Apparently they had no concept of its value. I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched the helicopter fly over a wide lake on a neighboring hill and cut the rock loose. With a crash, the rock fell into the lake and submerged except for a small piece which protruded from the water.

I was beside myself with anger. Several Mexicans were standing nearby and I asked them why the rock was being destroyed. No one seemed to have a satisfactory answer, but apparently they thought too many people were coming to the village. I hollered out to them in Spanish, "Suicidos! Suicidos!" They didn't seem to understand what I was trying to say, but my intent was to tell them that they were committing economic suicide. The only reason people came to this remote little village was to visit this ancient monument. I pointed out that Carolina and I had been here several days and had spent quite a bit of money. But if the ancient stone face hadn't been here, we wouldn't have come. Now that the face had been submerged, the village would probably die for lack of income.

Carolina and I walked back into our room. Something about the room now seemed much clearer to me. The walls in the room were covered with drawings, similar to ancient Aztec or Mayan drawings. Watching the helicopter carry the large rock outside had helped me to now understand these drawings. Clearly, the principal message of these drawings was a warning against avalanches. I now understood that we were in a mountainous region where avalanches were common, and definite precautions had to be taken.

The relevance of this message became all the more important to me as I slowly realized Carolina and I weren't actually in our motel room, but were seated on a bus slowly trekking up the side of the mountain just behind the village. Obviously the driver had to be careful of huge rocks slamming down the side of the mountain. One such rock could completely destroy us. We were already so high. I could look out the bus window and see the vast valley far below. The sight was spectacular. I had heard it was possible to take airplane rides over this area and I immediately decided I would like to do so. However, I hesitated because I was unsure airplanes up here would be safe. Suddenly, however, I realized it was too late to worry about being safe, because I was actually not on a bus, but on an airplane. The realization somewhat frightened me because we were so close to the ground, flying directly over the road, on a level area on top of the mountain. Apparently the pilot was going to attempt to land on the road.

Clearly the landing would be dangerous. We weren't able to completely see the road ahead of us due to a slight rise in the pavement. If a car came, we could crash. Nevertheless, I thought we would land safely. I also thought I would take the extended plane ride over the valley. I wanted to explore this beautiful area more from the air, and even if there was some risk, I was willing to take it. The idea of viewing the surroundings from the air was simply too enticing to pass up.

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